


Black Dice

by gittarackuur



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood and Gore, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sadism, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 02:51:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16884264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gittarackuur/pseuds/gittarackuur
Summary: “God dammit Fei, are you playing with your food?”





	Black Dice

“I ask one more time, then I cut.”

The man shakes in his chair. The voice from the dark part of the room is broken up, clipped with a thick accent he cannot place. His hands ache terribly in the bindings, and sweat soaks through his suit jacket.

He rattles in the chair, attempting to rock it over. A thick, choking fear coats him; he thinks, just maybe, it has origins from the figure in the shadow.

“I don’t know anything!” he cries, and the voice tsks.

“No,” it says, “that will not do.”

There is a glint from the shadow, emerging on a surgical scalpel. The figure steps out, no taller than a teenager. Its eyes burn, lidded and hyperfixated. The man trembles in the chair, watching as the figure moves closer.

“You’re a child!” he shouts, chair rocking with the force of his attempted point. The figure runs the blunt end of the scalpel across its own eyebrow, raising it in response.

“Not a child,” it steps in close. The air is heavy. A suffocating, murderous intent hangs between their bodies.

“What are you?” the man’s voice is near hysterics, and despite an obscured face, he recognizes a smile forming on the figure.

“A spider.”

-

Blood coagulates around Feitan’s feet, and he slaps the man hard across the face.

“No sleep,” he chides, grabbing the man’s chin. He forces his head back, setting the scalpel down. “You need to answer me.”

The man’s voice bubbles as blood drips from his nose.

“I don’t know,” it comes out as a sob, and Feitan picks up the surgical spoon.

“You know, you just do not say,” he angles the spoon, dipping the tip into the man’s eyelid. Feitan grins, malicious as it spreads across his face. His coat is discarded, and the man has a second to absorb his features. Feitan is dark, a sadistic gloss over his eyes, as he carefully pushes the spoon down into the eye socket. The man screams in pain, and the sound reverberates off the walls as Feitan continues to push.

“Stop moving,” Feitan growls, nails digging into the man’s chin. Blood streams down the right side of the man’s face, coating Feitan’s free hand. The chair shakes underneath them, and Feitan climbs up into his lap. He drives his knee into the man’s groin, pulling out another ear piercing scream. Feitan twists the spoon around, releasing the man’s chin to grab a fistful of hair. He yanks back, craning the man’s neck back to get a better angle.

“Please!” the man screams, bloodcurdling, but Feitan ignores him.

Feitan set a task, and he will see it through.

White-hot fury blazes through Feitan, and the urge to decimate the man whips violently in Feitan’s chest. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to focus on his hands. His heartbeat is loud in his own ears, and he slows it down to a manageable rhythm.

“You give me this information,” he says, twisting the spoon back and forth slowly. The man screeches, thrashing vehemently in the chair. Feitan draws his knee back slightly before slamming it down into the man’s groin.

“ _Tíngzhǐ tā mā de yídòng_ ,” Feitan snarls, unable to catch his native tongue from slipping out. The man gasps in agony, body shaking from unbearable pain.

“Is that Japanese? I could give you information on the Yakuza,” his words come out rushed, in an attempt to connect with Feitan. He gives the spoon a hard twist, severing the optic nerve. The man screams, and blood pours out of the corners of his eye. Feitan flicks his wrist, scooping up and out toward his body. Blood splatters across his face, and he pays no mind as he focuses on removing the man’s eye from his head.

“Don’t care about Yakuza,” he says plainly, “care about whereabouts of Borzov Mikahelson.”

The man attempts to shake his head, and Feitan cranks his neck back. A strangled sound leaves the man, and Feitan gives a hard flick of his wrist before the eye pops free of the socket. It hits the ground with a soft thud, rolling ever so slightly until it is caught up in the coagulated blood.

He gets off the man’s body, arms covered to his elbows in blood. Feitan sets the spoon down, wiping the blood off his arms with a drape. The sounds of labored breathing and dripping blood fill the room. Feitan wills his excitement down, trying to refocus his attention on the task in front of him.

“God dammit Fei, are you playing with your food?”

Feitan turns his attention to the familiar, deep tone of his partner. Phinks steps off the last stair, coming into the dim light. He brushes dirt off his thigh before looking up at Feitan. It takes a second for Phinks to soak in the sight, and a smile creeps across his face.

“You dirty little deviant,” his voice is low, playful, and Feitan’s grin is predatory.

“ _Báichī_ ,” he purrs, watching Phinks move across the room. He slides his hands up Phinks’ stomach, and Phinks runs a hand through his hair.

“You look awfully excited Fei,” Phinks teases, grinning. Feitan hums, a low sound in the base of his throat.

“You know torture does this to me,” Feitan says, voice lascivious. He leads Phinks to the chair directly across from the man. His attention shifts, and he pushes Phinks down into the chair. The room narrows, and all Feitan can focus on is his partner—his lover, in a not so secret way.

“Want you so badly,” Feitan murmurs, climbing into Phinks’ lap. The enhancer chuckles as he runs his hands up under Feitan’s shirt.

“Oh?” he taunts, sliding his broad hands along Feitan’s ribs. “I had no idea.”

Feitan grabs his face, kissing him hard; their teeth click, and he wraps his arms around Phinks’ neck.

“Shut up,” he snarls, rocking his hips down. Feitan is painfully hard, and his body lights up when his erection connects with Phinks’. Feitan gasps, sucking air from Phinks’ mouth. Phinks grabs Feitan’s ass, panting against his lips as he rocks Feitan’s hips rhythmically.

“You want it don’t you, filthy slut?” Phinks slurs as Feitan’s aura pours off of him, seeping into every orifice of the room. He feels drunk, watching Feitan’s eyes as his pupils swallow his irises.

“Yes,” it comes out of Feitan in a breathy moan, and he arches into Phinks’ touch.

“You’re gonna get it good, my little sadist,” Phinks replies, tugging down his own pants. Feitan makes quick work of his own pants, standing up on Phinks’ thighs to tug a leg out. He puts his hands on Phinks’ shoulders, kicking his pants off his legs. Phinks admires the long lines of his lithe body as Feitan balances precariously on his large muscles. Phinks leans forward, unable to stop himself from licking the precum that gathers at the head of Feitan’s cock.

“ _Tā mā de_ ,” Feitan hisses, thrusting forward slightly. Phinks holds his fingers up toward Feitan’s mouth. Feitan accepts them readily, and bobs his head slowly. He coats them with saliva, closing his eyes as he waivers on shaky legs.

“Hurry baby,” Phinks’ voice is thick with want, and Feitan pulls off his fingers before settling back in his lap. He kisses Phinks, reaching down to wrap his hand around Phinks’ cock. Phinks moans loudly into his mouth, thrusting up hard into Feitan’s hand. He slides a hand between Feitan’s thighs, rubbing his saliva-coated fingers against Feitan’s hole.

“Oh thank god,” he sighs, “you’re still stretched out from this morning.”

Feitan laughs breathily.

“Told you morning sex was good idea,” he says slyly, releasing Phinks’ cock to cradle his face. He kisses him, seating himself down on Phinks’ fingers. Feitan’s thighs tremble in anticipation, and he fucks himself slowly on them. The chair rocks slightly as Feitan cants his hips, panting hard against Phinks’ mouth. He wants Phinks; he always wants Phinks, but now, more than ever, he wants Phinks.

“Fuck me,” Feitan gasps as Phinks’ fingers brush his prostate. His body jerks involuntarily, and Phinks pulls his fingers free. Spitting crudely in his hand, he jerks himself off as Feitan repositions himself.

“You got it?” Phinks moans as Feitan grabs the base of his thick cock, lining himself up. Feitan nods, rubbing the head of Phinks’ cock against himself. Feitan pushes down, closing his eyes as Phinks’ cock stretches him out. _For the second time today,_ he adds as an afterthought. His thighs burn, and sharp pain shoots up through his back as he settles. Feitan grips the back of Phinks’ neck, breathing shallowly as he adjusts to Phinks’ length. Phinks strokes his hair slowly, heat pooling dangerously in the base of his stomach. He lives to see Feitan unbridled during torture.

Feitan is a master at his craft, and it bleeds into every aspect of his life.

“That feel good baby?” Phinks asks, running a hand down Feitan’s back. He hums in reply, and starts rocking his hips. Feitan sets a brutal pace, body keyed up from the torture. He rides Phinks’ cock hard, back arched as he snaps his hips quickly. Phinks cups his ass, helping him along, and looks down between their bodies as Feitan ruts against Phinks’ stomach. Feitan is hot, wet, completely undone in Phinks’ lap; sweat drips off his nose, and his arms shake from the strain he puts on his body.

“Take what you need Fei,” Phinks moans, and Feitan digs his nails into the back of Phinks’ neck. He doesn’t respond, his entirety engrossed in the raw pleasure bleeding into his body. His breaths come out in sharp gasps, and Phinks shifts his hips to angle his cock to hit Feitan’s prostate. He does, successfully, and Feitan sucks in a moan, body tense from the jolt. Phinks slaps his ass hard, squeezing his hips forcefully. The beginnings of a bruise forms on Feitan’s milky skin under Phinks’ thumbs, and Phinks breathes hard as Feitan throws his head back.

“ _Wǒ yào shè le_ ,” the words are punched out of Feitan with every thrust, and Phinks smiles widely.

“Love when you get native, you little freak,” he slaps Feitan’s ass again, thrusting up. He reaches down and wraps his hand around Feitan’s cock, and Feitan snaps his hips up sharply. He thrusts twice into Phinks’ hand before he arches, throwing his head back and moans loudly. His body jerks, long spindles of cum splattering across Phinks’ stomach and hand. Phinks watches the orgasm tear through Feitan with lidded eyes, and he is quick to follow Feitan’s suit. Burying himself to the hilt, he holds Feitan close and spills inside his body. Feitan gulps in air, head spinning wildly as he comes down from his high. He rocks his hips slowly, working Phinks’ orgasm out of him. The two of them sit in post-coital bliss, and Feitan rests his forehead against Phinks’.

As their breathing slows down, Feitan regains his professional attitude and picks up the labored breathing of the man he was previously torturing. He pulls off Phinks slowly, and stands in front of him, legs wobbling from the aftermath. Feitan clicks his tongue in annoyance as cum slides down his inner thigh.

“I hate when you do this,” Feitan chides, running a free hand up his thigh to clean himself. He licks his palm clean, pulling his pants up.

“If you want me to come in your mouth, you gotta say it. I’m not a mind reader,” Phinks finally says, tucking his softening cock back in his pants. He gets up, looking over at the man. He is slumped in the chair; his face is pale from the excruciating pain and massive blood loss.

“You really should just kill him Fei. I don’t know how much you’re going to get out of him.”

Feitan hums, putting his jacket back on. He situates his trademark collar, running his fingers through his messy, sweaty hair.

“He will talk,” Feitan says, raising an eyebrow at Phinks.

“Well hurry up. I came down here to check on you, and now danchou is gonna be really pissed off that I’m the only one coming back up,” he says, kissing Feitan’s cheek gently.

Feitan blushes, holding the scalpel up to Phinks’ face.

“Get out, or you are next.”

**Author's Note:**

> for hjo, my enabler, my partner in crime.


End file.
